


Quid Pro Quo

by Maverick



Category: Donald Strachey Mysteries (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-11
Updated: 2010-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-10 12:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donald's the lucky one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quid Pro Quo

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if Timmy's parents are named in the books or not. As they aren't in the movies, I have named them for this fic. As usual, thanks to pollitt for beta and hand-holding. Written originally for PROMPT #2:
> 
> George Bailey dies of a heart attack in the bed of an underaged rent boy. His closest friend and political partner suspects foul play in order to discredit a powerful political figure. Senator Callahan goes to his son to ask for help since Tim Callahan knows the only man who might be able to help

Timmy's sitting at the island in the kitchen when Donald gets home late. The all-day stakeout was a bust and he's really looking forward to a sandwich, a martini, and Timmy, not necessarily in that order.

He spies the pie on the counter before he's even made it over to give Timmy a "hi, I'm home" kiss on the cheek. He runs his thumb across Timmy's nape before grabbing for the pie. His stomach rumbles in approval when he sees what it is. "Strawberry Rhubarb. Your mother came to visit?"

"No actually, I drove out to Niskayuna. But she did make it especially for you. Her exact words were, 'at least Donald appreciates me and my rhubarb patch.'"

Donald smiles and kisses Timmy's cheek. "That I do." He cuts himself a piece and digs in. "I'll call and thank her in the morning."

Timmy returns his smile, but there's tension on his face that Donald doesn't like. Setting down his fork, he moves until he's standing behind Timmy, his hands massaging his shoulders. "Everything okay out there?"

Timmy shrugs. "My father asked to see me."

Timmy's tone is perfectly measured which makes the hairs on the back of Donald's neck stand on end. Jack Callahan's shunning of his son pisses Donald off to no end. It makes absolutely no sense to him. Timmy's parents have always been open and accepting of his choices, so it was a shock to him that Timmy working for a Democrat would be the one thing that his father couldn't accept. Turning Timmy around so they're standing face to face, he catalogs the tightness around Timmy's jaw, the weariness of his eyes. It hurts, physically hurts to see him so upset. He runs his thumb along Timmy's chin. "That's a good thing, right?" He goes for optimistic, but he can tell he misses it by a mile.

Timmy sighs and lays his head against Donald's shoulder. Donald massages his nape.

After a few minutes, Timmy raises his head and meets Donald's eyes. "I''m not really sure. Can we talk about it in the morning?"

Donald nods, his hand sliding into Timmy's. "Sure." Leaning over he kisses Timmy's temple and squeezes Timmy's hand. "You want me to take Dr. Watson out for his last walk tonight?"

Timmy shakes his head and pulls Donald into a tight hug. "No, I'll do it. Finish your pie."

As they settle into bed, Donald wants to ask, he wants to know what Timmy's father said that has him so wound up, but he won't. Timmy always gives Donald the time and space he needs when things are too hard to talk about right away, so he'll clench his fists and bite his tongue to give Timmy that same patient and loving treatment when all he really wants to do is go find Jack Callahan and smack him on the head.

It isn't that Donald doesn't like Timmy's parents. In fact he does. Peggy Callahan hugged him the first time that she laid eyes on him, nearly squeezing the life out of him, whispering in his ear, "I can see why my son loves you."

And Jack Callahan shook his hand, welcomed him to the family like it didn't matter to him in the least that Timmy had just brought home another man, had brought home his _gay _ lover to Thanksgiving dinner. Of course that was before Timmy had made the decision to work for Senator Glassman. After that, the holidays became awkward, with Timmy's father not even willing to ask Timmy to pass the potatoes. Dinners that had been fun before became tedious and tense, not unlike they'd always been in Donald's own family. He always enjoyed that the love in the Callahan household had run so matter-of-fact, so he knows just how much the rift with his father has hurt Timmy. And while he's more than content for Timmy to be his only family, he understands that Timmy misses the sense of belonging he always had within the safe harbor of the Callahan brood.

And while he knows he can't fix it, he can make damn sure that Timmy knows how much Donald loves him, how Donald would sooner die than ever hurt him, that Donald would do anything, _anything _ Timmy ever asked of him.

So he cups Timmy's face in his hands and brings his head down to kiss him. It's a tender kiss, a _thank you and I love you and you're the best thing in my life _ type of kiss.

He means for it to be comfort, nothing more. But from Timmy's hand rubbing across the front of Donald's boxers, his pupils blown wide in want, it's obvious Timmy doesn't require comfort tonight, he wants heat. And Donald's more than happy to oblige.

Donald's used to people calling Timmy uptight, prissy even, and he normally just smiles because he knows better. Sure Timmy can be anal retentive and rigid, just like Donald can be blunt and brutish, but together they're different. Better.

Besides, in the bedroom Timmy's anything but uptight. And tonight is no different. Timmy's mouth is on him, open and wet and Donald spreads his legs and lets Timmy settle on top of him. He's always been a fan of kissing, but Timmy raises it to an art form. His tongue darts and jabs wickedly into Donald's mouth while his thumb strokes over Donald's Adam's apple, the dueling sensations making Donald buck up against him.

When they break for air, Donald's heart skips a beat at the look of love and desire that lights Timmy's face. Donald loves that he's the only one who gets to see Timmy like this — wild and just a little bit wanton. "What do you want, sweetheart?" he asks, rubbing his cheek against Timmy's.

"You," Timmy says, his lips wet and swollen.

Donald smiles the smile that's only for Timmy. "Well, obviously." He nuzzles Timmy's chin. "What are you in the mood for tonight?"

Timmy's mirroring smile can only be described as naughty, the tension that had lined his face earlier is gone. "Surprise me," Timmy says, his head doing that little tilt and bob thing that Donald's found irresistible since the day they met.

"I can do that," Donald says, flipping them over so that he's on top of Timmy. He straddles Timmy's hips, one hand unbuttoning Timmy's striped pajamas while his other slides down inside Timmy's pants. Timmy's cock is warm and heavy in his hand and he pulls it a few times while his presses his other palm against Timmy's stomach, letting his thumb swirl around his naval.

Timmy hums his approval, raising his hips to thrust his cock into Donald's hand.

Raising up on his knees, Donald adjusts his position so his ass can grind against Timmy's erection. It's been minutes since he's had Timmy's tongue in his mouth and that's just wrong, so Donald pulls Timmy up to a sitting position by the two sides of his shirt and kisses him hard, his mouth open and wanting, his tongue gliding home against Timmy's. Never breaking the kiss, he works his hands inside the shirt to strip it off of Timmy in one quick movement.

Timmy laughs at the way Donald twirls the discarded shirt above his head and lobs it across the room. He slides his hands down the back of Donald's underwear, grabbing his ass hard before yanking the boxers down.

Donald makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan into Timmy's mouth as the elastic waist on his boxers skims across his erection so roughly it almost burns.

"Liked that, did you?" Timmy asks with a smile. "I'll have to remember that."

Lifting up, Donald shimmies the rest of the way out of his boxers while sliding Timmy's pajama bottoms down and off. Once they're both naked, Donald pounces on top of Timmy, settling between his legs, letting their cocks slide against each other. "Why don't we sleep naked again?" he asks as his props himself up on his elbows to look down at Timmy. "It'd save a lot of time."

Laughing, Timmy runs his thumb down Donald's nose, over his lips before following that same path with his tongue. "You'd miss undressing me."

Donald tilts his head upward, smiling against Timmy's temple. "Well, there is that."

They end up curled in a favorite sixty-nine position — Timmy's mouth on his cock, his on Timmy's — a perfect circuit of pleasure. One of the greatest treasures of marriage Donald has decided is that familiar doesn't mean boring. Sure, they've done this many times before but it doesn't ever diminish the experience. The sensation of Timmy's stubble scraping against Donald's shaft makes him shudder and moan just like it did the first time. And the way Timmy runs his thumb across Donald's perineum to make him buck up deeper into Timmy's waiting mouth always brings Donald to the edge of climax.

He knows all of Timmy's triggers as well. He knows the press of his thumbs to the crease where thigh meets groin will raise Timmy's hips off the bed like metal to magnet. He knows that a gentle caress of his fingers across the hollow at his hipbones turns Timmy on almost as much as his mouth on his cock, so the two moves together drive him the good type of crazy. And he knows that a hard flick of his tongue against the tip of Timmy's cock followed by a scrape of teeth will have Timmy breathlessly gasping out the word _fuck _ as he shoots into Donald's mouth. And dirty words on Timmy's Callahan's tongue have never been a kink that Donald could resist, so he follows with his own release almost immediately after.

When it's over, he twists upward to lay spent across Timmy's chest. Timmy's fingers stroke through Donald's hair as his other hand run down his back. Timmy nudges Donald's head with his own.

Donald looks up at him, his fingers tracing Timmy's lips. "You're gonna make me get up and get your pajamas, aren't you?"

Timmy nods and smiles. "Well, I'm not the one who threw them across the room, now am I?"

Donald shakes his head and smiles. Nudging Timmy's chin with his knuckles, Donald kisses him again before sliding off the bed to retrieve their bed clothes. He even buttons Timmy's pajama shirt back up for him before settling beside him. "I'm telling you sweetheart, naked has its advantages."

"Maybe next summer," Timmy says, a sleepy yawn slurring his words.

"Love you," Donald says as he settles against Timmy's side, knowing the other man is already asleep.

Donald's fucked a lot of guys in his life, but he's only been in love with two. And with Kyle, circumstances never allowed for more than frantic coupling in secret hiding places. He'd loved _him _, but he never made love with him. He's never had that with anyone but Timmy. He never got the chance to fall asleep with Kyle after sex or wake up next to him in the morning. He's only ever opened his eyes in the morning and been so happy he thought his heart might burst from it with Timmy. Because of Timmy. Even six years in and that rush of love, that moment of pure happiness washes over him each and every morning.

And he knows as he burrows his head under Timmy's chin, his arm slung across Timmy's chest, that he'll wake up tomorrow with that same sense of joy. And he knows whatever kind of trouble good old Jack Callahan might bring into their life, they'll face it together. He wouldn't want it any other way is his last thought before sleep and the steady beat of Timmy's heart in his ear pulls him under.

~*~*~*~

Donald's got a mouthful of pie the next morning when Timmy starts talking about _it _. No preamble or anything. He just starts in the middle like they were finishing their conversation from the night before. Under better circumstances, Donald enjoys being so in tune, but today he wishes he had had time for maybe another cup of coffee or two.

On that note, Donald takes a large gulp from the mug in front of him. "I thought he wasn't speaking to you?"

Timmy fiddles with his napkin. "I'm not sure that he is. He wants you actually."

"Excuse me?"

"You remember George Bailey?"

Donald narrows his eyes. He usually can track better than this, even without the coffee. " _It's a Wonderful Life _?"

Timmy shakes his head. "No, honey. George Bailey or Uncle George as I've always called him."

Okay, so it's beginning to make a bit more sense. "The guy who danced the tango with your Mom at your brother Bobby's wedding?"

"Yes. That's the one. Anyway, he was found dead three days ago."

Donald kisses Timmy's temple. "I'm sorry, honey."

"Thank you. But the thing of it is, he was found dead in the bed of an escort, a male escort, who may not have been of legal age."

Donald drops his fork. It takes a lot to make him speechless, but this comes close. "Wow."

Handing Donald back his fork, Timmy runs his hand through Donald's sleep mussed hair. "Yeah, wow about sums it up. My father wants you to investigate. He thinks something's fishy."

"Bailey wasn't closeted right? I remember he brought his partner to the wedding."

"No, you're right. He was one of the few openly gay Republicans in the Senate. He and Tom had been together for over 20 years. Tom died in a car accident about six months ago. It was a hit and run. Someone smashed into their car when they were coming back from a long weekend in Connecticut."

"Why does Jack think something's fishy?"

Timmy shrugs. "I don't really know. That's all he'd tell me. He just asked me to have you come and see him today."

"How do you feel about that?"

"That my father who hasn't spoken to me in nearly two years only summons me to his side to ask me to get my husband to investigate the death of his oldest friend? I'm just peachy with it, thanks."

"Timmy."

Sliding his hands around Donald's waist, Timmy pulls him close. "I'm not mad at you honey. I just find it kind of ironic that he'll overlook my liberal ways if he needs my help, or rather your help."

Donald takes Timmy's face in his hands. "Then he can go to hell."

"No, Donald, please. Talk to him."

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'm not going to say that it doesn't sting a bit, but I want you to investigate."

"Okay," Donald says, leaning in and brushing his lips against Timmy's. "Okay, sweetheart, if that's what you want."

~*~*~*~

Donald takes Timmy's car out to his parents' house. He tries to convince Timmy to come with him, but Timmy declines. He takes a detour around the back of the house when he gets there to say hello to Peggy, who he knows will be working in her garden. After brief hugs and kisses, he enters the house to find the elder Callahan.

Jack is in his study sitting behind his desk as Donald walks in. It always takes Donald back a little at how much Timmy resembles his father. He has his mother's eyes, but the mannerisms and other details are so very much the same. It's like seeing a version of Timmy, twenty years on.

Jack looks up. "Donald, you came. I wasn't sure you would."

Donald takes the seat across from Jack. "Timmy asked me to." And Donald can see that Jack knows just exactly what he means by that statement.

"Well thank you for coming. Did he fill you in on the case?"

Donald leans forward and braces his hands on Jack's desk. "Some. But we're going to settle a few things first Jack. Why did you ask for my help? Or better yet, why did you ask Timmy — the son you've been ignoring— to enlist my services on your behalf?"

Jack's face tenses the same exact way that Timmy's does when he's revealing something he'd rather not share, but knows he has to. "I didn't think you'd take my call."

Crossing his arms against his chest, Donald snorts. "You got that right."

"I know you don't like me."

Donald snorts again. "Please. I like you just fine. What I don't like is the shitty way you've been treating your son. So before we get down to the nitty gritty of the case, you're going to agree to my conditions."

Jack almost looks sheepish. "I'm willing to pay whatever price you name."

"Oh you'll pay all right. Starting with an apology to your son for being such an ass to him."

"This has nothing to do with Tim." And there's that stubborn look that Timmy gets on his face when he digs his feet in. Of course on Timmy, Donald finds it adorable. On his father, not so much.

"Sorry Jack, but it has everything to do with him. I wouldn't be here if he hadn't asked me to come talk to you." Donald leans forward again, his eyes narrowing to their most dangerous glint. It's the look he uses on the most hardcase assholes he's trying to make give it up and confess. "And the fact that you used him as your liaison shows that you know that as well. So, I am not doing a damn thing to help you until I have your word that you'll start treating him like your son again and not some grand disappointment because his political beliefs aren't a carbon copy of yours."

Jack has the good sense to look a bit scared.

Donald brings out the big guns. "This point's non-negotiable. Agree to it or I walk right now."

Jack runs a hand through his hair. "I can't just hide my disappointment in Tim's career choice."

Donald stands up and leans his hip against Jack's desk. "He's working for a Democrat, not Attila the Hun, so get over it."

Jack lets out a nervous laugh at that. "Are you always this blunt?"

"Pretty much, yeah. So do you agree to my terms?"

Jack stands up and walks over to his large picture window. "Timmy's very smart, he'll know you made some kind of deal with me."

Walking over to the wall beside the window, Donald crosses his arms against his chest once more and looks Jack directly in the eye. "You don't have to tell me how smart Timmy is. But I'm going to bet, he'll be so happy to have his father back that he'll be able to forget how it all came about. So again, Mr. Callahan, are you willing to meet my conditions?"

Jack nods his head and extends his hand. "You drive a hard bargain, but yes I will."

Donald shakes Jack's hand and raises his other hand to pat him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I plan on charging you such an exorbitant fee, you won't even remember this little detail."

Jack's face relaxes into something like relief, an almost smile curving his lips. "My son's very lucky to have you."

Donald shakes his head and smiles wide. "No Jack, believe me. I'm the lucky one."

\--FIN-- 


End file.
